Dare-ing to go wild at Atlantis. The first summer I was 18 and could legally go to that legendary Nags Head nightclub, I was busing tables at the Dareolina Cove restaurant in southern Nags Head, before I graduated to the Seafare the next summer. I’d get off work at Dareolina about 10 pm, grab a cold bottle of Bud from the work cooler, and get in my car, headed down the Beach Road for Atlantis. I’d crack open the Bud, fire up a Marlboro, crank up classic rock on K-94 and ride that magical Beach Road, through the then-desolate Epstein tract before making the lights of the Seafare and seeing their workers climbing in their cars, many of them headed to Atlantis, too. Once there, I’d flash my locals card and trade wisecracks with big cool Collis as he checked me in at the door. Inside was a swirling heaven for hedonists of pretty women and flashing dance-floor lights, a smoky oceanfront pit of beer-soaked floors and wall-thumping music. We restaurant workers bought each other beers, yelling and laughing to be heard above the blaring rock band on the stage, meeting tourist girls in the process. Many of us restaurant workers were still in our work clothes, the Seafare guys cool in their white tux shirts and suspenders. I thought the one edge I had was that my Dareolina work shirt was a pirate smock with an open collar where I could sport my shark’s tooth necklace. We all had a lot to learn. But the learning, Banks style, was damn-sure fun.
John Riley - Outer Banks Author
Hootie & The Blowfish - Dave Matthews - Band - 2 Skinnie J's - Nantucket - Fighting Gravity - Firefall - Snuff -
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